


better ones

by twiceshy (oncebitten)



Category: Korean Drama, 솔로몬의 위증 | Solomon's Perjury
Genre: (I think! In some way), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Depiction of Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Depiction of Mental Illness, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Suicide Attempt, Car Accident, Fluff, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Referenced Self-Harm (Non Graphic), Sowoo Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 06:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18360770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncebitten/pseuds/twiceshy
Summary: AU where Jihoon's parents die in a car accident, and Sowoo lives.Jihoon's orphaned at the age of five. This is one of his better lives.





	better ones

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty self-indulgent. PLEASE check the tags for content warnings. The M rating is for those, rather than sexual content. Better safe than sorry.
> 
> Since you're here, I hope you'll find something to enjoy in this fic! Apologies for any inaccuracies - it's been months since I finished the show.
> 
> Not beta-ed.

Jihoon's parents die when he's five. He remembers this vividly, perhaps more vividly than it happened in real life - the sunlight glinting off shards of glass, bright in the high noon light, piercing glitter into his eyes; the scent of blood, iron and red and pain; his mother's whimpers, his father's dead, the driver of the car that rammed into theirs as they emerged from a tunnel trying to free his mother and maybe killing her in the process. His eyes are dark, blown. Cars going past in the next lanes, the roar loud skids against tarred roads. _Blue Red Red Blue_ the police reach before the ambulance does. Pain all over him, his elbow, his back, mixed with old bruises that fail to fade. He's wearing light blue that day but it's drenched in red.

 

An endless scream. That one's him.

 

Is it a tragedy? Unquestionably. But this is a child who will grow up strong and happy, mostly.

 

Jihoon's a child orphaned at five. It isn't nearly the worst thing that could happen to him.

  

* * *

 

 

The man who puts a jacket around him touches his hair while he cries is kind. That's the man who will put the bad driver in jail.

 

He comes to visit and buys Jihoon toys. He lets Jihoon stay in his home. He reads him stories every night and sends him to all the best classes. He cooks good food all on his own. Jihoon has never known a life like this. Jihoon even takes his last name. A new family.

 

His old parents haunt his mind, always, always. Sometimes, it's his old father driving the other car, and Jihoon gets run down. Sometimes everybody lives.

 

* * *

 

 

Psychiatric therapy isn't something you talk about, especially when you're a kid. "How messed up must in the head must you be to go in _elementary school?"_ is what people would think. He tries to be glad for most people that they wouldn't understand. He doesn't think the other people deserve to be treated poorly. 

 

But Jihoon's smart, so he learns about therapy and thinks he needs it, but waits until it gets worse or someone else says something. He doesn't need people to look at him with judgement - or at his dad. His dad is a good person.

 

With all he's been through, it figures that he's unable to hold out forever. That day comes when he's ten. More than that, he's hospitalised for it.

 

He still sees images of a smoking wreck and hears the crash and his mother whimpering and he knows...he knows what human beings look like when they have bled to death. When they're crushed in leather seats, bleeding puddles into their neck cushions. At some point when he's ten, he stays awake for four days and sees things and sways on his feet when he tries to walk. He does something stupid that he doesn't mean to - he intended to bleed but he hadn't wanted to die. He just lost his grip on reality for a while. He wouldn't leave his dad like that.

 

His dad realises that he needs help.

 

Jihoon's in a mental health institute for a whole month and he will pretend that nothing is wrong when he's out.

 

He's got depression and hallucinations on his medical record, but he also has certificates for multiple grades of examinations on the cello and the piano. He's still an over-achiever, really. His classmates like him at school. He's popular. He comes across as too serious to be teased, but he's at the receiving end of positive attention. He's not sure he knows how to make friends with people at school though, because his mind is dark and dim, and they're young and haven't seen the ugliness in the world.

 

He doesn't hate them for it. It's a good thing for everyone to have suffered less than he did. He's trying to remember the ugliness less too. He wants to be a bright like the rest. He has reasons to be happy - he has had for half his life.

 

His dad will probably never fully understand him but Jihoon doesn't want him to. He likes it when his dad says good things about him - it's nice to know someone see him like that. His dad remembers everything well. Stuff like reminding him that the first thing he'd ever wanted was a toy guitar, that it was a blue one. It was his first sign of his musical talent, apparently. His dad's always proud.

 

"You have my hair and my eyes, and one day you'll have my height," his dad likes to say. Jihoon knows it's stupid and false but he smiles. He's someone's son now, and he's lucky. Most of the time, he is _lucky._ He wants to believe it. If he could just patch his brain up, he could be happy more often. He doesn't think it's completely possible, but he's trying.

 

* * *

 

 

He's eleven before he talks about it in therapy. He talks about how his dad is a hero, and somehow his old father comes up. He recalls how his father used to beat him and his mother and explains his scars one by one. He had always been a precocious child. His memory stretches back to when he was very young - or maybe some things are just harder to forget.

 

There's more, he says, but they haven't left scars and he doesn't want to talk about it yet.

 

His therapist doesn't say a word but he can tell she's shocked. He did use to make an effort to appear well-adjusted in front of her.

 

Jihoon had voiced out the truth in a deadpan, even tone. He had spent days practicing it in his head and delivered it to perfection. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that she gives him a reaction because it means that this is something significant. She will not ignore it, so he cannot pretend anymore either.

 

"Were you afraid?" she asks gently, and Jihoon doesn't know why he's shaking at the vague recollections of a distant memory. His heart races and races and his hands are clammy but his cheeks are so hot that he distantly wonders if he'll be okay.

 

"I was, but it's over now, _"_ he says, almost calmly. He takes a breath. It's hard to continue. "I _was_ ," he repeats, and he cries and cries and cries, garbled sobs and ugly heaves that haven't surfaced since he started getting better, and wonders if he should have left his demons unearthed. He feels like he's fallen back into the depths again.

 

"I wasn't sad that I couldn't go home anymore," manages at the end, between tears and hiccups that wouldn't _stop,_ and feels guilty because he had wanted the old man to die before he really did. Because he hadn't missed his mother enough. And he doesn't think he loves her.

 

He thinks back to a mother he barely remembers; whose body broke for his to stay whole and failed to accomplish even that. He wishes he'd gotten to know her, but he regards the accident that killed her as his salvation.

 

His clavicle has a huge ugly scar that would never heal. His back, his legs, they're all still ugly. He hadn't realised that everyone else assumed they were scars from the accident until he grew older, and then he didn't know how to tell them. It could have been worse - it _would_ have been, and he's...relieved that his parents died.

 

He'd taken too long to work up the courage to admit it.

 

He's more messed up than anyone knows, but he's finally getting around to admitting it. He's a dark child. He's not pure. Selfishly, he'll grasp onto any happiness that comes his way and try his best to keep it. He'd do anything to keep getting better, whether he deserves it or not.

 

* * *

 

 

When he's twelve, he tells his dad about his old family. He doesn’t know how he manages not to cry. His dad _does_ cry - he's a strong man, but a tear rolls down his cheek and he promises to never let Jihoon get hurt again.

 

Jihoon doesn't tell everything he remembers to his dad or his therapist, but he doesn't have to. He's growing stronger, better at coping. Some of the ugliness is for him alone.

 

His dad takes him to see his mother's ashes one day, because he asks, and because he want to move her away from his father.

 

He cries then. But his dad's there to hug him, and it's...okay. He isn't alone.

 

It's slow, but he heals.

 

* * *

 

 

He's thirteen when he meets Sowoo. His therapy sessions have been cut to once a month, so it was a fortunate encounter. His therapist is at the mental health institute, and he's still allowed to drop by and take part in ward activities when he wants even though he's no longer a staying patient. He quite likes it: nice nurses, nice volunteers - mostly young adults from the city University who come by with ingredients and teach everyone recipes once a week. He doesn't need lessons to learn, but it's nice in a weird way. They're a bunch of people with comparatively few problems and a slightly over-enlarged sense of self-importance, but they're also kind to him and he doesn't have to pretend to be perfect around them.

 

Jihoon's been thinking of coming back as a volunteer around the wards once he's dismiss for good. (He doesn't know how many years that would take.) He's not sure if they'll let him though, and he hasn't dared to ask. Despite his impeccable school record, his mental health slate isn't near equally polished. He isn't sure if he'd trust himself with the kids either.

 

Sowoo is...a happy accident in Jihoon's life. The first time Jihoon meets him, he's pacing around listlessly with a gigantic art book open in his hands, nicked off the shelves of the hospital's tiny library. The books are donations so there's always something wrong with them. This one has good photographs and the spine intact. Hence, it's in French and is good only for the pictures.

 

Jihoon is lost in thought when they meet, and Sowoo has his eyes in a book. It's a collision that squishes Jihoon's foot and makes Sowoo fall forward - and Jihoon's about to catch him by the wrist, but they're bandaged so he pushes him away by the chest and Sowoo falls backwards.

 

It ends with Sowoo curled up on the floor and wincing, while Jihoon remains standing, too stunned to blush. He's never been a clumsy boy, and these types of things just...don't usually happen to him.

 

Sowoo bends his arm at an odd angle to take a look at his elbow and hisses. It's scraped, rubbed away at the surface and painfully red. Jihoon feels bad about it, which is enough to kick him into action. He bends down and offers Sowoo a hand, and Sowoo takes it.

 

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says ruefully, offering an embarrassed grin.

 

"Don't worry about it," Sowoo laughs, and holds his gaze. It's...comfortable.

 

Jihoon isn't very sure what to do with that, so he bends down to retrieve the heavy art book. "You like art?"

 

Sowoo nods. "It's interesting. You?"

 

"Music person," Jihoon says. He slaps off the dirt that clings to the book's glossy cover and hand it back to Sowoo. "There's always something wrong with the library books," he remarks, not really thinking about it.

 

Sowoo laughs. Jihoon doesn't think he's the sort to laugh often, but he does, and Jihoon's smiling more frequently than he usually does as well. It's easy.

 

"We could learn French," Sowoo says, an offhand comment, not very funny for a joke but good-humoured.

 

"I'm too busy for that," Jihoon says.

 

They walk together. There's a large round table where kids in the ward can sit when they're not involved in activities with the volunteers, and they settle in side by side. Sowoo places the book down and looks at Jihoon instead of it. He's a tall boy. Being thirteen makes Jihoon one of the older boys in the ward, and he supposed Sowoo is in the same age range. He asks to make sure, and is pleased to find out they're in the same year of school.

 

Sowoo's not a happy person, but he feels...good. Jihoon himself is possibly neither good nor bad; too troubled and too passive, and perhaps a little too willing to pretend. A grey cloud follows Sowoo around, but his interest  _bleeds_ through it and that might make him good. It is rare to find a person who is truly interested in people other than themselves.

 

"What are you here for?" Sowoo asks, frank and genuinely curious.

 

Jihoon, who habitually sanitizes events before telling others about them, struggles to voice out an honest answer. _What_ indeed. There's so much and it's so big and small at the same time and he doesn't know how to answer. Big because it is, small because it's just _his_ and _personal_ and happened an age ago. It's indulgent to talk about it.

 

But Sowoo isn't pure. He isn't earnestly hoping that Jihoon would become...better. He's probably mostly just curious. It wouldn't pain him if Jihoon talked.

 

"I did that once," he eventually settles on with a glance at Sowoo's wrist. It's a start. It's not his whole story, but it's a start.

 

"Not the best way to go," Sowoo says wryly and he laughs. So does Jihoon.

 

"I wasn't trying to," Jihoon explains.

 

"I'm not sure if I was," Sowoo says. It's totally inappropriate but they laugh again.

 

Sowoo smiles encouragingly when he talks. He touches Jihoon's wrist gently. He makes jokes at his expense.

 

Jihoon's thirteen. It's a little late, but he's finally made a friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Sowoo's quickly become the second most important person in Jihoon's life after his dad. He becomes a fixture in the house. They study together, play together, and just talk.

 

They really  _talk._ It's liberating. Jihoon can talk about the superficial stuff and the horrific stuff endlessly, often in the same conversation, and he doesn't have to watch what he says. Sowoo listens because he's interested in people, and he doesn't recoil because his mind gets arrested by a similar type of darkness. Jihoon makes sadistic jokes without being chided, obsesses like the nerd he is over musical composers that Sowoo doesn't know, cries over wholesome family movies (and _only_ wholesome family movies; sad endings make him feel numb), and Sowoo listens. He laughs at Sowoo's expense sometimes and ruffles his hair mockingly, and it's the youngest he's ever felt. For the first time in his life, secrets don't catch on his tongue and he doesn't have to bite them back. There's somebody in the world who knows everything he has to tell and he stays.

 

Friends are precious, so Jihoon takes Sowoo home a lot, until Sowoo starts to feel comfortable enough to show up without being escorted there. Jihoon likes it. Sowoo deserves a place to go that isn't his shitty home with his parents who almost hate him and a brother who does not care.

 

Jihoon's home has always a sanctuary, ever since his dad took him there, tucked him into bed with a toy he wanted and told him he wanted to adopt him. He's happy for it to shelter someone else. There's not been a third person who belonged. His dad never found the time or attraction for another woman or man, and would never divide his attention if it meant less time for Jihoon. With the way his dad is, it has to be Jihoon to introduce someone else to their precious space.

 

Jihoon guesses his dad may be hesitant about Jihoon making a friend as self-distructive as he is but his dad keeps any judgement he may have to himself. He's great to Sowoo. He welcomes him in and feeds him great dinner, and when things get hard for Sowoo at home, he doesn't say a word when Jihoon drags in a spare mattress to his floor. Sowoo respects his dad a great deal. He's happy that Jihoon was adopted by such a great person. 

 

Sowoo's over a lot. It's a good thing.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes, Jihoon wants to be the sort of selfless and upstanding his father is. Only sometimes, when he's at his best, because otherwise it's easy to lack conviction when you're tired and busy.

 

One day he'll have the means to make a real impact. One day, he won't be so absorbed in taking care of himself. Until then, he'll be satisfied with being the least bad person he can possibly be.

 

* * *

 

 

There's something he's never told his therapist, but he tells Sowoo because he can trust him. Sowoo isn't the type to make dismayed faces (or fake-neutral faces) and ask stupid questions like _"are you okay?"_ or _"how do you feel about this?"_

 

Sowoo's talking about this girl instead of doing his homework. She's really smart, apparently, and she seems like a nicer person than the others in school who only care about themselves. Jihoon doesn't know that he agrees with Sowoo's assessment of people - _Jihoon_ is guilty of caring more about himself than anyone else and Sowoo doesn't seem to mind. But Jihoon doesn't know whether he's more wrong than Sowoo about people, so he tries to see things from Sowoo's viewpoint.

 

But yeah. Girls. Crushes. Sigh. He's convinced he'll never have one. The kids at school have started whispering about porn and sharing their collections under their tables, but Jihoon has been doing a good job of seeming too above-it-all to be privy to these conversations. He's glad to be placed on that kind of pedestal for once. He doesn't like thinking about porn or sex. He especially hates when people talk about whipping and hard stuff. Jihoon's been whipped. Remembering makes him feel disgusting.

 

"I think I'm damaged," Jihoon says, matter-of-factly.

 

Sowoo puts down his pen to listen. "Why would you say that?" he asks, inquisitive but kind.

 

Jihoon shrugs and his mouth quirks down into a wobbly grimace. "My father was a pedophile," his says, which is explanation enough. He's not usually so vague with Sowoo.

 

Sowoo pulls him into a hug before he can blink. He's thankful. Sowoo never asks stupid questions, and he can tell when Jihoon doesn't mind stuff.

 

"I really hate him," Sowoo murmurs into his hair.

 

"Me too," Jihoon says.

 

* * *

 

 

Sowoo's _always_ on Facebook. He has a lot of friends there, but only as an anonymous persona. He knows everything about everyone, because despite how he claims to understand that all human beings are not good, he loves people.

 

Jihoon doesn't know that it's the best thing for him, but it doesn't hurt, and Sowoo seems to enjoy it.

 

The name of the girl he likes is _Seoyeon_. Jihoon gets it, seriously. He's stalked her profile. She does great in school and doesn't overstep with her community service. Some of the top students are fond of travelling overseas to build huts and stuff like that, and they come back pretending that they've awakened their social conscience and made a great difference. Seoyeon reads books to kids who can't afford extra classes. She's also objectively a pretty girl. He gets it.

 

* * *

 

 

"Sometimes," Sowoo says, "I don't think I have a personality anymore." He's lying on his back in the snow and smoking a cigarette. He'd stolen it from his shitty brother.

 

Jihoon had snatched it out of his hand a few moments ago, and he was proud to say that he didnt choke on it half as much as Sowoo did. He wouldn't make a habit of it though.

 

"I think you have a personality," Jihoon says. "Nobody's like you."

 

Sowoo takes a deep breath. He flops around to offer Jihoon another smoke. Jihoon takes over the cigarette, despite his better judgement. He hopes the scent won't stick to his clothes. His dad would freak.

 

"I can't remember not being sad," Sowoo says. "It crowds my mind out. It changes the way I act, the way I feel. I don't know how I'll be without it. If all that's gone, then what else is originally me?"

 

"Your kindness. The way you like people. And you're my best friend," Jihoon lists blandly. It's better not to sound too emotional about things that are actually important. He doesn't want to start crying over Sowoo. He wishes that Sowoo could be happier. Jihoon still has his good days where everything seems perfect. Sowoo's good days are when he can fight through the fog and catch a glimpse of happiness. It's not fair.

 

Sowoo's silent. Then he pushes himself up a little. "Thanks," he says, and leans over to breathe in the smoke Jihoon blows out. He's too close isn't he? Jihoon doesn't mind.

 

* * *

 

 

At the start of the first New Year’s Day they'll experience as high schoolers, Sowoo spends midnight over in Jihoon's room. They stand at the window as the chilly winter air blows in. Jihoon's dad would surely disapprove, but he'd accidentally fallen asleep on the sofa while waiting for the countdown to start. Jihoon plans to wake him up soon - just not yet. He's standing right next to his first real friend as the clock strikes twelve, which feels like the most significant of moments.

 

Some people in the neighbourhood start doing a countdown loudly. Sowoo says that someone is livestreaming the fireworks at Coex, but he's put his phone away for once. Jihoon is flush against him as a cold wind envelopes them. His arm rests against the warm fibres of Sowoo's sweater. Sowoo is bigger and taller than him by a little, not because he's small but because Sowoo's big for their age. He's a reassuring presence.

 

They're quiet, but the people downstairs are excited, and Jihoon's heart goes at a quick pitter-patter that fits the moment. There's mist when Sowoo exhales.

 

The neighbours yell _"-ONE, ZERO! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_ Jihoon has the most bizarre image of putting an arm around Sowoo's waist, standing up straighter, pulling Sowoo down...

 

...and this might be a problem.

 

Sowoo smiles at him. He smiles back and drags Sowoo out to wake his dad. _Dad, dad you missed new year,_ he'd say, and shove this out his mind until he's ready to think about it (maybe never).

 

* * *

 

 

Sowoo comes to him with a whole pack of cigarettes.

 

"Let's stop this once winter ends," Jihoon decides because they shouldn't make a habit of this, but he takes a stick and the lighter and joins in.

 

There are bruised fingerprints on Sowoo's wrist. He must have gotten into a fight at home. He eyes Sowoo's wrist openly, and Sowoo nods in acknowledgement. "It's not always like that. Not like you were."

 

"Okay," Jihoon accepts. "Promise you'll remember that you can always tell me anything?"

 

Sowoo nods seriously. Jihoon's fears are assuaged.

 

* * *

 

 

Sowoo hangs a _Captain America_ plushie on Jihoon's backpack. _Just because he felt like it_ , he says.

 

It's not a romantic gesture, Jihoon tells himself. He knows, but he still has to tell himself that.

 

* * *

 

 

Sowoo shows him a chat he's having with Seoyeon. She doesn't know it's him, he's just  _the Watchman_ to her.

 

Like everyone else, she thinks he's interesting and she likes talking to him. Jihoon thinks everyone's kind of foolish, because Sowoo's right _there_ and they even all love his virtual counterpart but they don't see him.

 

In the meantime, Jihoon's more popular than he knows what to do with, and he's decided that the only way to handle his local celebrity status is to ignore it. If they _knew_ him they wouldn't like him.

 

Seoyeon says something that Sowoo finds humourous. He shows it to Jihoon. "She's great," he says.

 

"That's nice," Jihoon answers. And he doesn't know why he has to bring down the mood every time Seoyeon is mentioned; maybe she makes him feel insecure, or maybe he's more vindictive than he wants to believe. But he changes the subject. It's something he's always buried desperately. Now it's bursting from him.

 

"You know I'm a terrible person, right?"

 

The grin slips off Sowoo's face. He killed off his happiness. Yeah, Jihoon's selfish.

 

"Jihoon. Seriously, you're really, really not."

 

"I am," Jihoon says, and he tries to sound as bland and emotionless as he usually manages to, but it's a struggle. His voice quivers. Hell, he's on the verge of crying. He wishes he'd kept his mouth shut. "When my mother died, I was happy," he says, because there's no going back. He hates himself so much, he shouldn't have said a word.

 

"You're _not,"_ Sowoo protests, "look at you now. This isn’t happy."

 

"It's only because I feel guilty," Jihoon says, "it's because it's hard to bear hating myself. But I was just glad he was gone. I don't know how all those things could happen, and I can just go around thinking there are reasons to live. Jumping into the first house that took me in."

 

 _"Jihoon_ that's not your fault."

 

"I know that." He _does._ He didn't kill anyone. He didn't even try. "It's how I reacted that was bad."

 

"It's-"

 

"I remember wishing for him to-" he gulps twice. The words are catching in his throat. "-to die," he soldiers in. "I wanted. Then I was free."

 

Sowoo doesn't have anything to say because it's pretty clear that Jihoon _won't listen,_ but he rubs Jihoon's back as he cries.

  

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says a few hours later. "I don't usually think like that. I don't blame kids who were...abused."

 

"Don't be sorry," Sowoo says, "I had no idea you felt that way."

 

"Not always," Jihoon tells him honestly.

 

Sowoo isn't patting his back anymore. It's probably more normal. Jihoon wonders if they cross the normal boundaries of personal space too often. People don't usually hug do they? It's always Sowoo who starts the hugs, and only when Jihoon's on the verge of crying. Jihoon is weird and distant, and all he does when Sowoo's sad is let him come close enough to breathe in second-hand smoke.

 

Maybe he remembers all these occasions too well.

 

"Sowoo," he says, and in a terrible way, he's glad that he's recovered the use of his indifferent, dead voice.

 

His best friend looks at him more intently. He's more worried than normal, but that was warranted, Jihoon guesses.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Just...everyone's bad," he says.

 

"I know that?" Sowoo says slowly. "People are superficial and selfish."

 

Jihoon almost laughs. It's like he's in a trance. "I don't think you really do. You like people too much. But please, don't be let down if we're not as good as you think we are, okay? Everyone is rotten inside."

 

Sowoo looks like him like he's a puzzle that cant be figured out. It's a little heartbreaking. Sowoo had always understood before. But it's just like Jihoon thought - Sowoo didn't _believe_ people were horrible, even if he thought he knew it.

 

Jihoon had to face the facts. Everyone was rotten inside. Even people like him, and he'd never hurt anyone on purpose in his life. If a tiny child could be relieved when his mother was dead, everyone had the potential to be evil.

 

Perhaps Sowoo isn't bad. If he were, he'd see it in himself, and know that nobody else could be free of bad desires.

 

* * *

 

 

Jihoon doesn't have wet dreams until he's in high school - which is ludicrous isn't it? But he doesn't, and he had been pretty sure he'd be exempt from them.

 

The first time he wakes up from one, he feels a bone-deep embarrassment and guilt, and somewhat dirty, but above all, he's _thrilled._

 

He _does_ want these things on some level. Who knew? And his brain was wonderfully tame about it. It was a calm, happy dream. He's not sure if he should be grateful of annoyed that he's always remembered his dreams in such graphic detail; this one is either a treasure or a curse.

 

He blocks out the fictional sounds of Sowoo in the midst of passion and all that when he sees his friend again. Jihoon has the least exposure to porn out of everyone he knows, so he expects that whatever his mind made up was wildly inaccurate.

 

It doesn't even have to be Sowoo anyway. He just has hope now that one day he'll be well-recovered enough to explore the whole sex thing on his own terms.

 

* * *

 

 

"Dad," he says over dinner, on one of the days that Sowoo isn't around.

 

His dad is attentive as always. They have a no-phone rule for meals.

 

"Yep," he says expectantly.

 

"Have something important to tell you," Jihoon says. It's sort of a test, maybe - Jihoon's found himself prone to accidental manipulation now and then. But it's also a test he doesn't expect his dad to fail.

 

His dad nods encouragingly, visibly bracing himself for anything that may come, and looking fully prepared to take his side. Jihoon likes that. It's a bit fanciful, but he thinks that there's not much in the world that his dad wouldn't do for him. He wonders what he did to deserve this kind of selflessness. The best part was probably that he'd done nothing at all.

 

"I think I like guys," he confesses.

 

His dad reacts like he expects. And yet he feels so thankful for it that maybe he hadn't been sure at all. He's not sure why he puts people through tests when he's the one who gets hurt by them.

 

His dad freezes up for a second. It's to be expected. He's a traditional guy, still believes in all the traditional markers of success. But he reacts the same way he did when Jihoon said he wanted to go to the Arts school to learn music.

 

"It's okay," his dad says, and takes his hands gently. "Introduce me to all then handsome guys you want to bring home. Don't hide from me, okay? I want to meet everyone."

 

Jihoon's lucky. He's the luckiest kid to ever survive.

 

* * *

 

 

Jihoon can't remember the last time he was so worried, but Sowoo's suspended and he doesn't have any idea what he should do.

 

He finds Sowoo.

 

"You want to know a secret?" Sowoo says, "your dad's _scum."_

 

He's really not, he saved Jihoon's life, but Sowoo must mean it for some reason, and he _must_ have a reason because he wouldn't just say it.

 

Jihoon's confused. He can't imagine, because his dad's been wonderful. But he also knows that anyone can do bad things, and it doesn't mean they're bad.

 

He _knew_ that Sowoo never understood that.

 

"Do you want me to tell you what he did?" Jihoon can't say yes. Sowoo's lip curls, and he's angrier and more torn apart than Jihoon has ever seen him being. And Jihoon has seen many of his previous lows.

"Everything's a mess, nothing can be fixed," Sowoo says scornfully. Jihoon still doesn't have anything to say in response so Sowoo pushes him and walks away.

 

* * *

 

 

Christmas dinner is tense.

 

"What happened to Sowoo?" Jihoon asks his dad.

 

His dad's eyes flicker.

 

Guilt. Damnit.

 

"He got into a fight," his dad tells him. "Did he say anything to you?"

 

Anxious. Double guilt. Damn.

 

"He didn't," Jihoon says.

 

It's the worst sort of betrayal. Jihoon doesn't know what to do with himself.

 

* * *

 

 

 _"Give me a reason I should live,"_  Sowoo says in a sort of cold desperation over the phone and what the hell is Jihoon supposed to do?

 

"It can get better, it always can," he says, and does a mad dash around the city to prove it, trying to find a reason that resonates with Sowoo and he's stupid naive faith in humanity, that doesn't boil down to everyone being too horrible to die for. There has to be a good moral reason that Sowoo would listen to. There _has_ to, and he has to find one.

 

But he's so scared that he can't. It's not one of his good days for obvious reasons so it _doesn't_ feel as though things will ever be fine again, and he always feels guilty as sin on his bad days, and he went to see his mother's ashes because he foolishly believed it would inspire him to think of something to be grateful for, and...he can't.

 

* * *

 

 

"I hate your dad and I hate _you,_ and I hate myself. I hate it. Everything's crazy, and it can't be fixed, and I don't know how everyone's okay with it," Sowoo yells from over the rooftop. It's fucking terrifying.

 

He's going to jump, Jihoon knows that with a sinking feeling. Sowoo's never been that attached to living anyway, and he's had the rug ripped from beneath his feet. Meanwhile, Jihoon had always wanted to live; had wanted to live so much that he was happy when his mother died. It's only the pure of heart who are disgusted by ugliness.

 

"Give me a reason to live," Sowoo pleads.

 

"There isn't one," Jihoon says. He's crying, why is he crying. "I told you before, everyone's ugly. You didn't believe me."

 

"Then why are you living? You had so many chances to stop."

 

The words come out like they're wrenched from Sowoo's throat. He doesn't sound like himself. They're dull, dull, dull, desperate, pained.

 

"I don't know," Jihoon whispers. "My dad saved me. Because he loves me, maybe."

 

"Then why should I live?"

 

Sowoo's dad doesn't love him, Jihoon knows. His entire family doesn't. Does anyone? People love the _Watchman_. Jihoon's dad didn't care enough about Sowoo to not do whatever he'd done.

 

Jihoon was the only one maybe. Dare he admit it?

 

"It'd kill me if you die," Jihoon says, and Sowoo's eyes flicker. Can he kill another person? Jihoon's not sure, that's why it had to be said that way. And he's manipulative when he's desperate. It's good that he's accepted that about himself. It's a well-honed tool in his belt at this point. He's always been good at selectively revealing truths. It's good that he'd recognised it as a weapon. Imagine if he lost his mind when he was terrified.

 

It's Christmas. It's cold. How did they get here?

 

"What does that mean?"

 

"I love you," Jihoon says. "I'm tired of you but I love you. Don't do this, please."

 

Sowoo doesn't come to him, but he doesn't get any closer to the edge either.

 

"I'm in love with you. You can hate me for it. I told my dad that I was gay last week. I'm sorry for this. But you can't do this to me, Sowoo. Please."

 

It was like autopilot. Maybe Jihoon _was_ losing his mind.

 

"Your dad's still scum," Sowoo says. But he doesn't sound like he'll jump. Jihoon won't make assumptions, but he doesn't have that type of suicidal desperation anymore.

 

"He won't be, he loves me, we can force him to be honest. Sowoo, talk to me. You promised. I told you that you could tell me anything, and you promised to remember." He'd sell his dad out if he had to, but he'd listen. Was it selfishness, to make the man who'd selflessly given him everything turn himself in for something he'd done? It had to be bad. It had to be a crime. Jihoon just hoped it hadn't hurt anyone - that might be harder to forgive, because Jihoon knew what it was like to be hurt.

 

Was it selfishness? Selflessness? He loved his dad too. He _loved_ him, and maybe if he didn't have to do this to keep Sowoo alive, he'd forgive him, no matter what. He'd otherwise let his dad get away with murder, he thinks. He'd be disappointed, but he wouldn't say a word.

 

"You love him," Sowoo tells him, like Jihoon _doesn't already know._ He's so acutely aware that it's stabbing him through the heart.

 

But, "we all have to take responsibility for our own lives," he says. Selflessly maybe. "You too," he adds pointedly, which he hadn't meant to, but maybe he was vindictive when he was angry. "Don't ask me to tell you tell you what the meaning of life is. I don't have the answers. Do what you want. Die miserably if you want to. I'm too tired to care." Definitely vindictive. "I can't stop you. But I don't want you to die."

 

Then he really does cry. He hadn't even meant to, but that makes Sowoo move towards him, to safety, and he's going to hyperventilate because he's _done it_  but it hurts so much that it doesn't feel like a success at all, and Sowoo pulls him in like always, and Jihoon can't even dredge up the energy to hug him back to make sure he stays, because he's done. He's spent. 

 

* * *

 

 

Jihoon's dad turns himself in. It's ridiculous. He's so good at hiding his secrets that nobody would have known if it hadn't been for Sowoo. But he hears of what transpired on the roof and he turns himself in.

 

For Jihoon, not Sowoo.

 

Jihoon can't make himself love him a single ounce less. He can't give him platitudes; he doesn't deserve to say nice things to make his dad keep loving him. But he swears to write letters every day, whether his dad replies or not, and even if he one day decides that he regrets adopting Jihoon. He's been a nightmare child, he knows that.

 

He'll not let his dad suffer. If he comes out and can't find a job, Jihoon will work hard and make sure he lives comfortably even if they're not on talking terms anymore. It's a good thing Jihoon has great grades.

 

Sowoo tries to grow distant, but he realises he can't because Jihoon doesn't have anybody else left and it's his fault in a way. He stops using Facebook so much, but he doesn't stop talking to Jihoon.

 

They're both frequently back at the psyc ward to talk to experts. It can't really be helped, even if it does feel useless sometimes. Sowoo was on medication in the first place and look how helpful that was.

 

The school is embroiled in a disaster that hits their reputation terribly. Thank goodness for standardised testing - Jihoon will go to a good university by whatever means possible. He'd spin the story in interviews in any way he has to, since he's sure he'll have to talk about it one day. If the interviewer sound like the type to like morally upstanding people, he'll be that. If they care about people with wiles and determination, he'll be that instead.

 

He is manipulative, but it's not the worst thing to be. It saved Sowoo one time, really, and Jihoon's happy about that. Maybe he'll go into law. Maybe he could get into pro bono and he could start helping people for once.

 

Sowoo has had the stars ripped from his eyes, which probably hurt so much in the first place because he hadn't known they were there. Jihoon had.

 

It also means that he'd never be this disillusioned again. Jihoon had loved Sowoo's people-loving soul, but it had to have an expiry date. People weren't good enough for Sowoo.

 

They don't talk about his love confession. It's fine. Jihoon hadn't expected that kind of affection back anyway.

 

Sowoo's a little bit less touchy, but whether that's because of the confession or because Jihoon turned out to be a heartless asshole or because Sowoo feels bad for something, Jihoon doesn't know.

 

* * *

 

 

They're on his balcony at night again, like that New Year and so many other days before that, but it was New Year that he'd had the first inkling about how much Sowoo meant to him. It was strange how different they felt from back then.

 

Jihoon's in a good mood. His dad says he still loves him, and Jihoon can tell he means it. Jihoon, again, has never done anything to deserve that, but he'll always be completely, utterly grateful for it.

 

Sowoo had brought a pack of cigarettes. He stole them from home again. The only reason it was not going to be a habit for him was that Jihoon took one every time he lit up. Jihoon was perhaps not _quite_ above using himself as hostage. Sowoo pointed it out; that he'd been doing the same thing for ages without either of them noticing until he'd taken it to the extreme, and they had a laugh about it.

 

"That's me, nasty without even realising it," Jihoon remarked.

 

"Don't say that about yourself," Sowoo said. His tone was injured for whatever reason.

 

"Are you saying I'm not?" Jihoon asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

Sowoo took a deep breath. Then he stubbed out the cigarette against the railing, a good centimeter and a half before it was actually done. Jihoon followed suit.

 

"I think you're ruthless," Sowoo says, "but at the same time, you were innocent in all this."

 

"Was I," Jihoon says flatly.

 

"I don't think you've ever done anything really bad in your whole life."

 

Which is sort of the truth, in a way. Jihoon _has_ done a lot of things to make himself (and a whole lot of other people) feel like shit though. And he's a fantastic liar.

 

"I think you're brave," Sowoo goes on to say. Jihoon looks at him in disbelief. Brave is the last thing he feels.

 

"Thanks," he says hollowly. Sowoo looks sad. What right does he have?

 

Sowoo opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but reconsiders and leans over the balcony to stare out into the streets.

 

It's an average night. Normal breeze, no snow, no rain. Jihoon doesn't know what he's supposed to do, but Sowoo seems to be having a moment so he sticks around. He might have to go off and do his homework at some point.

 

"Do I have a chance with you?" Sowoo asks eventually, in a small voice.

 

"Huh?" Jihoon says, not really understanding.

 

Sowoo looks away from the streets. His eyes flicker toward's Jihoon's and stay there. He seems to be fighting himself, for some reason or other.

 

"About what you said, do I have a chance?" he says.

 

It sounds like- Jihoon's imagination reaching for an impossible.

 

Sowoo steels himself, or maybe it's his mouth running away with him. They've all been there. The things that are hard to say always flow like a broken dam.

 

"I know- I know relationships are challenging for you," he starts, breathes, and his next words trip over themselves as though they don't know what order the should come out in. "You said I could hate you for liking me, but I can't. If you still want- that is, if you wanted it at all, please know that it's up to you, and it's not because I don't want it. You're- I-" he stops. Jihoon's grinning with amusement, because the words are too much to process, but Sowoo's funny when he's nervous because he so rarely is. Sowoo stops trying to spit out a full paragraph. "You're great," he finishes. His eyes flicker to the floor before he forces himself to grant Jihoon the respect of looking at him.

 

_Great._

 

Honestly.

 

It was the exact same word Sowoo had used when talking about Seoyeon all those days ago. What a lousy romantic.

 

Jihoon has to laugh. It's not a mean laugh, and Sowoo gets caught up in it within moments.

 

They lean over the balcony, enjoy the lack of breeze, and watch the cars go by.

 

Jihoon's heart still feels like someone stuck a wrench through it and messed up everything about the way it works, but he's also content for the first time since Christmas night.

 

"Alright," he says eventually, when he's done laughing and he's had the time to give it a little thought. He doesn't feel the slightest inclined to rush into it, and he isn't prepared to do as much as hold Sowoo's hand, but Sowoo seems to sense that. He's not lost his talent for knowing things like that. "Let's see how it goes."

 

Sowoo smiles warmly, like the fog in his head isn't so thick today and he's properly happy. Jihoon is too, rabbiting heart and niggling guilt at the back of his head and all, so it's a good day for both of them.

 

Someone likes him after knowing him. It's unbelievable, and yet it's not.

 

This isn't one of the lifetimes where Han Jihoon avoided tragedy as a child. It's one where he grows up healthy, and he knows what it means to happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I want to clarify that Jihoon's survival's guilt is 100% misplaced, but he is an unreliable narrator.


End file.
